Concrete Angel
by TheWitch'sDorothy
Summary: Nessarose reflects on her life. Oneshot, inspired by the song Concrete Angel by Martina McBride.


**A/N: The cover is from Deviantart (aka not mine); I will gladly give credit if you want it! In my mind, Concrete Angel is Nessarose's theme. For the full effect, I recommend listening to it before/while reading this story. Read and review!**

* * *

"_Through the wind and the rain, she stands hard a stone, in a world that she can't rise above. _

_But her dreams give her wings, and she flies to a place where she's loved." _

_–Concrete Angel by Martine McBride_

* * *

Nessarose was dying. She should've been already dead.

She could feel the weight of the fallen house on her body, nearly crushing her. There was only a single beam holding it up and out of the corner of her eye, she saw it slowly splintering, the cracking sounds faint and barely perceptible. Nessarose could feel a slow trickle of warm blood falling down her face and her ribs were burning. Everything hurt. She let out a single, bloody cough that echoed like a gunshot, interrupting the shallow sounds of her breathing. A single tear rolled down her dirty cheek and her eyes fluttered shut, as she tasted the salt on her lips. Nessarose felt more tears falling down her face as she let thought of everyone she was leaving behind, everyone she'd never gotten a chance to say goodbye to. She coughed feebly once more, letting a memory carry her away.

The memory that came was of the first day of school, when she was six and Elphaba was nine. She had been wearing her nicest dress, a simple, pale white linen frock with lace fretwork and her dark brown hair pulled back from her face by a matching headband. She had done her best to look aloof and confident, but inside she was trembling from nervousness and fear. The few children she'd met had been nothing but cruel to her, mocking the fact that she was in a wheelchair. Her small hands had been shaking in her lap; her gray eyes sparkling with a few unshed tears. As they had approached the gate, she couldn't help a small whimper from escaping her lips. Even now, fifteen years later, she still remembered how Elphaba had reached down and held her hand as they'd entered, not letting go and gently squeezing it comfortingly. For the first time in her young life, Nessarose had felt truly safe, guarded by a sister who loved her.

A sister she'd blamed for something she had done. A sister who she had never gotten to apologize to and never would. Swallowing hard, Nessarose gave a choked sob that was immediately followed by a fit of coughing. Already, the sounds of her heartbeat and breathing were fading out and her vision was dark and fuzzy at the edges. She recalled all of the times that she'd sat outside in the garden with Elphaba, watching the birds fly up above their heads, picking flowers, feeling the warm breeze on their skin. How pretty Elphaba had looked then, with her raven-black hair swirling around her face, the emerald of her skin matching the grass underfoot. Secretly, Nessarose had always thought her sister was beautiful, much more beautiful than she was.

She wished it were morning. If it were, maybe someone would be passing by and notice that their Madame Governor was trapped under a house. And maybe the doctors of Munchkinland could keep her alive long enough to say her thank-yous, her apologies, and her goodbyes. But of course, she reasoned, if anyone did come by, they would just keep walking if they noticed the silver shoes sticking out from under the house's edge. After all, she had been keeping them virtually imprisoned. They'd just ignore her, like their neighbors had done years ago when Father had been beating Elphaba. Nessarose had lain in her bed with tears running down her face every time her sister cried out, trembling violently and praying that someone would help. But no, all the neighbors did was turn out their lights and go to sleep, pretending that nothing was wrong.

Elphaba, Glinda, Fiyero, and dear Boq. She'd wronged each and every one of them in some way; whether it was by gossiping about them or going so far as to physically harm them. And she was sorry, more sorry than ever. But no one would ever know.

Nessarose heard a loud cracking noise and all went black.

* * *

"Just one stop, Fiyero. Please."

"Fine. But don't take too long." Elphaba kissed his cheek in thanks and ran back through the forest, her feet taking her to a place she knew well. As she came upon it, her footsteps slowed and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Walking through the rusted iron gate, she walked through the overgrown path to the back of the Thropp family cemetery, where three headstones lay side by side. The ones on the far left and right were of a more worn marble, and the names Frexspar and Melena Thropp were barely visible on them. The one in the middle though, was new and polished, a stormy gray that had exactly matched her eyes.

Elphaba felt tears burning down her cheeks as she gazed tearfully down at Nessa's headstone, kneeling down to run her fingers over the smooth stone, noting that a small stone angel was resting on the freshly packed earth. She remembered watching birds with Nessa, recalling the joy on her face as she had watched them soar. Remembered all of the times her sister had wished to fly, fly away to a place where she could walk and she was truly appreciated and adored. A single thought ran through her mind as the tears flowed faster.

_Nessarose Thropp. Rest in peace, my concrete angel._


End file.
